All I Want For Christmas
by Bardicsidhe
Summary: Joey wants Ryou, Tristan wants Dev. When best friends get together to plan the way to get their men, magic is bound to happen…but Ryou and Dev have been doing some planning of their own…and then Mongolian beef gets involved…it’s a messy business.


Title: All I Want For Christmas…

Author: Scylla the Healer

Started: October 16, 2003

Pairings: Tristan Taylor/Duke Devlin, Joey Wheeler/Ryou Bakura

Warnings: Shonen-ai. PG for language, and situations. And fluff. I make no bones about it, people. It's fluff.

Summary: Joey wants Ryou, Tristan wants Dev. When best friends get together to plan the way to get their men, magic is bound to happen…but Ryou and Dev have been doing some planning of their own…and then Mongolian beef gets involved…it's a messy business.

**- ~ -**

"Of all the…"

_Scraaaape…_

"Stuff I have to do…"

Grunt.

_Fwish…plop…._

"Mom _would _pick now…"

_Scraaaape…_

"Why do _I _have to shovel the driveway?"

Grunt.

_Fwish…plop…_

Tristan glared at the intimidating white blanket of snow ahead of him, and muttered a few choice words about winter that were best censored by the scraping of his shovel across the pavement. It was so horrendously unfair of Fate that if he had the breath, he'd be laughing. This was – hopefully – going to be the most important night of his life! He and Joey had worked _so _hard to make sure that tonight's 'play date' was going to be special…great food, a _homemade _chocolate cake—they'd even sprung for some _candles_, for heaven's sake! The white ones that smelled like vanilla. Tristan didn't understand it, but Joey said it improved the atmosphere.

_Scraaaape…_

"Whatever."

Grunt.

_Fwish…plop…_

Another passionate spray of snow went flying.

It wasn't like he was going to get to enjoy it, anyway. His parents were leaving in a few minutes, his friends would be coming over for dinner in an _hour_, and he was going to smell like a canal horse!

He could have told his parents, but he really didn't want to face the third degree inevitably coming his way…they'd been curious enough about his purchase of scented candles.

_"What's the special occasion?"_

_"Nothing, Dad…"_

_"Come on, son, don't pull that…say, have you got a girl coming over for dinner?"_

_"Um…sort of."_

_His mom and dad just got that look, great big beaming smiles splayed ludicrously across their faces._

_"That's great, honey."_

_"We're just going to play Dice Monsters, that's all!"_

Girl. Right.

Did it count that Dev wore a ponytail?

He shrugged fiercely and dug into the snow again. And again. 

They'd find out soon enough…but he wanted to be sure of what was going on _himself_, first, before he started issuing notices to the family. And at this particular moment, Duke Devlin – the world-famous inventor of Dungeon Dice Monsters – was just a friend, to all intents and purposes. And any time that he got to spend with the green-eyed older boy was worth the trouble. He was pretty sure that Devlin liked him…why else had he offered to teach Tristan how to play his game over the holidays?

And then there were all the little side-glances, and the time they spent together…he hadn't started out as one of Tristan's friends – but over the months, it had become that way. Maybe even something more…if his instincts on, and he played his cards right.

"Wait…what if I'm wrong…?" 

That thought hadn't occurred to him. He froze.

_Oh my God. I can't do it. Can't do it can't do it can't do it…_

The pavement, however, ran out, and he stood at the end of the drive with shovel in hand and a deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face. His mother caught sight of him, and yelled from the front door. 

"What are you doing, honey?"

Blink. "Nothing…!" Tristan called back, and turned to put his shovel away. "The driveway's done!"

"Thank you, honey! Now get inside, before you freeze!" She peered over his shoulder as he stamped snow from his boots. "Isn't that your friend, Joey Wheeler?"

"Hm?" _Not now…please not now…_

"Over there." She pointed, "Coming up the sidewalk?" She squinted. "Goodness, that's the most dressed-up I've ever seen him!"

Tristan looked over his shoulder. He had to admit that a pair of snug khakis and a sweater did wonders for improving Joey's appearance. The turtleneck helped too…and the fact that he'd bothered to brush his hair for once, though it still stuck out at odd angles. "Oh, yeah. He's coming to dinner tonight."

"Oh, that's nice…is he bringing someone?"

"Yeah…is that okay?"

"Of course, honey!" She caught his cheeks and pulled him down to plant a wet kiss on his forehead—which he'd have _preferred_ Wheeler didn't see. "We're on our way to your aunt's Christmas party…call us if you need anything. Daddy has his cell phone, and you know your aunt's number, right?"

"Right…"

"Okay, honey. Now get in here, both of you!" Tristan's mother beckoned to both boys and ducked back inside.

"Yeah, 'honey,' we'd better get inside," A heavy Brooklyn accent snickered at Tristan's back. He gritted his teeth.

"Don't tempt me, Wheeler." 

"And you're gonna what? Force me to make out with you?" Joey followed him into the kitchen with a chorus of annoying kissing noises.

"Oh yeah? And just maybe I'll make you do all of this by yourself." He bent over with a grunt and pulled the oven door open. The cake was beautifully done, and the rich scent of chocolate filled the entire house. At least he wouldn't starve when he finally got an apartment of his own. Now…where was the tin of frosting…? 

Joey's expression switched to one of abject terror. "You wouldn't do that to me, would you, pal?"

"I don't know why we're going to all this work, anyway. Dev's just coming over to teach you, Ryou, and me how to play Dice Monsters. Whose idea was it to make this into the holiday episode of _Martha Stewart_?"

"What's wrong with candles at Christmas?" Joey protested. "Relax, man. Go get changed…and…" he sniffed audibly, "take a shower, first, hoo."

"Give me a break!"

Joey only grinned. "The cake's done, and the food's ordered, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course!"

"Okay." Joey propelled him toward the hall and his room. "So go kiss your mom goodbye, 'honey.'" He snickered.

Tristan made an exasperated grimace, and did just that.

An hour flew quickly, and both boys looked up from last-minute details to hear a tentative knock on the door. Nervous, excited glances shot from one to the other, and Tristan headed out from the dining room to answer it. He ran a hand through his hair as he passed the foyer mirror, feeling strangely out of place without the familiar geometric butch. Now, the dark brunette strands were gelled back…and he looked…well…normal. And not too damn bad, if he did say so himself.

Devlin seemed to like it, too. Was it just him, or was there an appreciative smile on the guy's face while his eyes roved over Tristan's form? For once, Tristan had abandoned his old standby style for faded blue jeans and a tight, tawny long-sleeved tee, which made him look not so much tanned as _golden _tanned.

That the blue jeans hugged his butt was a pretty nice plus. And when he said hugged, he meant _hugged_.

Tristan Taylor: sex machine.

"Hi…"

Apparently Tristan wasn't the only one with the genius for tight pants. It took a conscious effort to keep his eyes away from Devlin's black-swathed lower half.

_Oh, God, he _ would_ wear leather, wouldn't he?_

"Hey, there…" Devlin replied, as his smile split into a truly unruly grin. Honda found himself returning the expression, too afraid to do anything else.

A polite cough from behind Devlin's shoulder broke the stretching silence.

"…Tristan, are you planning to have your way with him right here? And if so, might the rest of us slip past before we freeze to death?" The soft, Australian accent added an amused lilt to Ryou's voice. Both boys jumped, and hastily dropped their gazes.

"Oh, er, sorry!" Tristan stumbled, and leaped to the side to usher Devlin and Ryou inside. By the time he'd had time to really register what had just taken place, the moment was gone, and Devlin was ahead of him, teasing Joey playfully and paying Tristan no more mind than he ever had.

_I must have imagined it._

Joey was waiting at the dinner table, just pouring the contents of another Chinese take-out box into a serving bowl. He leaned over, blonde hair obscuring his face as the candlelight in the otherwise darkened room caught it and spun it to gold.

He was right about the candles, after all. Though it smelled like a _Krispy Kreme _in there.

Ryou seemed to be having a little trouble breathing.

Tristan, following the pale teenager's line of vision, swallowed a rush of shock, and a little swell of pride. Yep. He was best friends with a total babe. A little scatterbrained at times, yes, but Joey was _still_ a bombshell. And it seemed that Joey's instincts were dead on.

Joey looked up, caught the three onlookers ogling him, and after a moment of stunned surprise, flashed a sunny, golden-boy smile. "All right…dinner is serv-ed. We've got sweet-and-sour pork _with _sauce…Mongolian beef…and almond chicken." He rounded the table, pulling the covers off of steaming dishes with a flourish. "We've got fried rice…and we've got egg rolls…and we've got _wontons_." And without further ado, he tossed himself carelessly into the closest chair and reached for the first bowl.

The others exchanged looks, snickered, and found seats.

Dinner, it seemed, was a success.

"Hey, Tristan!"

"Yeah, Joey?"

"Where's the Beef?!" A morsel of meat launched itself across the table, and Tristan, with perfect execution, nabbed the flying tidbit with his chopsticks and poked it into his mouth.

The pair of them waited expectantly for praise.

"Wait, are we supposed to be impressed?" Devlin asked innocently, and looked from their hosts to Ryou, "does this mean we're supposed to be impressed?"

"Well, can _you _do that?" Ryou replied, brandishing his own pair of eating utensils, "Doubtless, these two have been practicing that particular move for ages." One fine eyebrow raised in sarcasm.

"I'll bet I can!" Devlin insisted, not taking the joke for its intention, and scooted back from the table. "What's more, I'll bet I can catch it in my mouth! Lay one on me, Wheeler!"

Joey exchanged an incredulous look with Ryou, sighed, and hefted another piece of beef from his plate. "You ready?"

"Ready!"

He let fly, and with an impressive dive to the left, Devlin nabbed it. Tristan glared. "Hey! I will _not _be one-upped in my own house!"

The other smirked, twirling a lock of hair about one finger with a positively feline self-satisfied expression.

"Then top me."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Tristan retorted with a suggestive leer, before he could stop himself. A minute or so of awkward silence surrounded the table. 

_Don't stare at me like that, Dev…_

But he was. Finger frozen mid-twirl, green eyes gone wide, he was _staring _at Tristan for all he was worth. Staring. That suddenly became very heated staring…and the corner of his mouth twitched up in the beginnings of a smile.

"Yes…well…" Tristan coughed, turning back to face a grinning Joey, "Anyway, toss me another one!"

"But at this rate, I won't get to eat!" Joey protested.

"Hey, _you're _the one who started it!" Devlin insisted

"I did not! You were the one who turned it into a competition!"

"And flinging food at each other is _such _an entertaining way to impress guests?" This from Ryou, who sat back and watched the event in fascination, hands folded in his lap and one slim leg crossed elegantly over the other.

"Okay," Tristan mediated, "_one _more, and then we let him eat!"

"But that's not fair!" Devlin cried indignantly, "I can't top _you _then!"

"Oh, the pair of you are giving me ideas, _such _ideas…"

"No more comments from the peanut gallery, Ryou."

"I? I am just an innocent bystander. And you _do _realize that this entire argument is over flinging _meat _at one another's mouths?"

"Well, when you put it like that…"

"Never mind," Devlin waved a hand to quell any further protests, "I rather like the idea, put like that."

"You pervert!" Tristan snickered to hide a blush. 

"What did I say?"

"You didn't have to _say _anything."

After another stretch of pointless arguing, it was agreed that both Tristan and Devlin would 'go for' the beef this time, and whoever caught it was deemed the winner, and the loser ordered to pay a forfeit to be named by the victor.

Joey launched the prize with a deft flick of his chopsticks, and as one the ponytailed teenager and the tall brunette dove for the meat.

Tristan was _sure _he hadn't thrown himself _that _far off balance. It was just a game, after all…

But suddenly a slender hand snatched his shirt in an unshakable grip, and as Devlin fell backward in a last-ditch attempt to snag the toss mid-arc, Tristan found himself pulled along for the ride.

Out of their chairs.

Onto the floor.

"Oomph!"

"Gah…"

Apparently, beef wasn't what Devlin had been reaching for.

Tristan was sprawled ingloriously atop the darker-haired teenager, still with one of Dev's hands twisted in the fabric of his shirt. With the lithe speed of a boa constrictor, suddenly Devlin's arms were around his neck, and in another moment, had pulled Tristan's mouth roughly down onto his.

Tristan wasn't expecting it. Yes…he _wanted _it, by God, but it was the first time that a living, breathing heavy metal wet dream had ever snatched him by the collar and made love to him with his mouth. He was too frozen by shock for his poor overloaded brain to register the enormity of what was _happening_ to him, until Devlin released him, and lay back with a sultry grin. "I win."

"You…" Tristan gulped, stared, and was suddenly very, very aware of the six square inches of warm leather clad thigh pressed alongside his own. Then, one of the gorgeously slanted green eyes closed in a reassuring wink. Despite himself, he smiled, and as his friend's lips parted again invitingly, he leaned down…

"Are you guys okay?" Joey's worried voice drifted across the table.

Both boys jerked. Blinked at one another, and yanked away as though burned.

"We're fine," Devlin answered Joey, and shoved at Tristan. "Oof. Get off me!"

Blushing fiercely, Tristan complied with a stammered apology, and found his chair again.

A side-glance at Devlin confirmed that the ponytailed youth was facing the same problem. What should he do? Pretend that it never happened? That Dev _hadn't _just kissed him? Tristan felt the slow sinking of his heart as the mouth that only moments ago had wantingly claimed his own turned out of view as Devlin refused to meet his eyes.

_Well, if that's the way you want it…fine._

In a more stable state of emotions, Tristan would have marveled at how quickly his normally analytical thoughts shifted from undeniable _want _to cool indifference. Or…a façade of cool indifference, at least. He went back to tamely scooping up almond chicken without another word.

He missed the suspicious glances that Ryou and Joey bestowed on him, before exchanging shrugs and following his example.

And he missed the quietly hurt look on Devlin's face. Though, all roller-coaster emotions considered, Tristan may well have kept up with his stonewalling just to exact sadistic revenge, if he had.

At any rate, the temperature was about to change by several degrees in a matter of seconds. Silence spanned across the table now, awkward and perilous. The pair of blondes on the opposite side of the table tried in vain to break it, and as it stubbornly hung over their companions, Joey and Ryou were finally forced to admit defeat. Dinner was almost over, anyway…the remains of rice and sweet-and-sour sauce were growing cold.

Tension had built to a tangible point by now, covering the silence over and everyone else unfortunate enough to get in the way. Tristan sneaked another glance at Devlin from the corner of one eye. Nothing had changed. He was _still _being as cold as ice. Goddamnit, all the planning that had gone into this night, and all the hoping, and for a hot second Tristan had thought that maybe…just _maybe_…everything was going to turn out all right.

And then Devlin had ruined it. Pulled that stunt, and offered him his dream, and then…it seemed like he was even now ripping it away. To a hormone-heady teenage boy with a full capacity of oriental chicken sitting unsteadily in his stomach, it was suddenly too much to bear.

"I'm going outside."

Tristan stood up so abruptly that his chair nearly kicked over backwards, and the other three boys looked up at him in surprise. Later, he'd be shocked at his own fetish for drama that evening, as he stalked across the room and out the back door to stand on the snow-dressed patio. Hands shoved into his pockets, he stared up at the evening sky, which had dropped into darkness and sparkled now with the crisp points of starlight. The cold caused a sudden drop of temperature that effectively cooled his blood, and Tristan shivered for an entirely different reason. He padded out, away from the patio and just beyond the glaring pool of light from the back door lamps.

_I'm such an idiot._

_Dev wouldn't play around like that, would he? If he wasn't…he wouldn't…_

_Is he just going to use this to try and come between Serenity and me?_

_Heh. He never knew, then, did he? Serenity was…_is_…way too young for me…and she knew it, and I knew it, and we just liked watching Joey breathe fire._

_I'm glad _that's _over now. But what about Dev?_

God I'm cold. But I can't go back inside. Not now.

_Come on, Taylor, be a man. Just swallow your pride and get back in the house before you die of hypothermia. It must be…what…ten below out here?_

__

The patio light went out, unexpectedly, leaving him utterly in the dark. "Damnit." Now he was going to have to change the bulb, probably. _Nice. Real nice._ He turned to head inside, at last glad for a viable excuse to come back without looking like an idiot.

The door closed quietly, just ahead. Tristan squinted against the warm light leaking from the dining room.

The soft-edged silhouette padding toward him through the shallow drifts stopped him cold, no pun intended.

"Tristan, I'm sorry…"

Devlin. Well, _that_ was a surprise. "I'll bet you were."

The shadow hesitated, confused. "What do you mean? What are you talking about?"

"Come on, man." Tristan whispered, heatedly, "That act you pulled at dinner!"

Devlin's green eyes were far enough out of range of the weak illumination from the house to catch the starlight, and Tristan watched in fascination as the emerald depths hid from him when his…friend…lowered his gaze in guilt.

_Hah. I knew it. He _was _just…messing with me…_

Then, the eyes shot back up to bore into his. "That _wasn't _an act," Devlin retorted, ponytail flying in adamant agreement as he shook his head. "but when the others said something, you jumped away _awfully _quick!"

"We…we were on the _dining room floor,_ man! And anyway, _you _told _me _to get off, remember?"

"_I'll_ tell you where to get off right now!"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah!"

Tristan grunted as angry hands connected with his chest and shoved him backwards. His eyes narrowed, and he retaliated, shoving back with just as much force…more. His opponent slipped to one knee and cried out in pain at the jolt.

_This is what you get for not _looking _at me all through dinner, you bastard!_

Satisfied and only a little repentant, Tristan stepped forward to offer the other boy a hand up.

The heel of Devlin's hand connected with his chin, and he reeled backwards another step with a choked-off curse. He rubbed his jaw; skin smarting with what would probably become a bruise, later. "Jackass! Okay, _fight _dirty. Are you going to bitch-slap me, while you're at it?"

"Keep talking like that, and I just might!"

Starlight illuminated Devlin's promising smirk beautifully in silver tones, and Tristan fought off the tingle of warmth that had been growing since dinner's little…event. Goddamnit, he wasn't supposed to hate Dev and want to boink him silly at the same time!

**- ~ -**

Inside, Joey and Ryou watched with interest from the back door.

"D'you suppose we should…you know…help them?" Joey asked, as he returned from the kitchen with a pair of steaming hot chocolates and handed an earthen mug to Ryou. The smaller boy accepted the cup, and shook his head.

"I think they're doing a splendid job of helping themselves right now, don't you think?" Behind his drink, he smiled sweetly and one clear eye closed in an unmistakable wink.

Joey snickered.

**- ~ -**

"You don't have the balls!"

"That's funny, I thought we were talking about _me_, and not _you_."

"Oh, that's _it!_" Unable to take the abuse any longer, Tristan pounced. Devlin must've been expecting him, because he managed to dodge just a few inches to the left, avoiding a full body-slam that probably would have seriously damaged the snow bank. And their ribs.

Instead, Tristan clipped his shoulder. _Hard._

Devlin grabbed his shirt for balance with both hands as he spun the other direction, and yanked the force out of Tristan's fall as he dragged the taller brunette teenager down with him. 

They hit the ground with a double "Oof!"

**- ~ -**

"They're going to kill one another!"

"Oh, ye of little faith."

One of Ryou's hands freed itself from his mug and slipped subtly around Joey's waist. The blonde offered him a surprised blink, before amiably shifting closer.

**- ~ -**

_Well. Isn't this familiar?_

Once again, Devlin had landed on his back…but _this _time, Tristan was sprawled squarely between the other boy's wildly splayed, leather clad thighs. And _this _time, there was one major difference.

The anger…the fight…even though it was over, had handily cleared up his nerves.

Tristan Taylor: Return of the Sex Machine.

"Get _off _me!" Devlin shouted, pushing at the other boy's superior weight. Tristan shook his head. 

"You were mad at me the last time I did that, remember?" He smiled with maddening innocence. Oh, he was _enjoying _this, now.

"But the _last _time, I wasn't getting snow down my pants! My ass is freezing, you jerk!"

"That's what you get for wearing leather pants in the middle of winter."

"Can we argue this somewhere where there _isn't _a layer of frost forming on my—?" The rest of the question was bitten off with an abrupt gasp, as the broad, warm palm of Tristan's hand splayed against the slick curve of Devlin's rump, effectively shielding it from the snow.

"Is that better?" Tristan asked, playfully tender.

"A…little…" Devlin admitted, "but I'm still cold…"

"Want me to fix that?" _Lord…where am I getting this stuff?_

"And how do you propose to do that?" His friend's tone took on a new color…sultry, teasing, and almost challenging.

In a sudden flurry of movement, Devlin found himself rolled over, now with _all _of Tristan beneath him, willingly shielding him from the snowy drift. And _both _hands were plastered against his butt, now, while he rode Tristan's hips.

The unexpected turn of events caught them both by surprise, and as one, they chuckled.

"Lech! You just wanted to grope me! And now my ass is _really _cold!"

"Oh, shut up, Dev" Tristan ordered, and generously freed a hand to drag his friend down into another kiss. Devlin responded with more enthusiasm than he'd originally intended, and as their lips met, his hands trailed almost shyly down Tristan's ribs. In response, gentle hands slid around his waist and clung tight, and in a few heated moments, a love hot enough to melt snow kindled between the pair of fevered mouths.

Fevered, inexperienced mouths…

"Ow! Why the hell did you bite me?!"

"It's _supposed_ to be sexy!"

"Sexy, hell! Are you going to eat me in my sleep?"

"Don't tempt me, Taylor…"

~Owari~


End file.
